


Wrong End of a Gun

by voiceless_terror



Series: TMA Whumptober [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Before Episode 96, Blood, Daisy is Terrifying, Day Three: Held at Gunpoint, M/M, Panic Attack, Whumptober 2020, minor injury, season three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27000466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: Jon accidentally compels Daisy. She makes him regret it.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: TMA Whumptober [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952800
Comments: 20
Kudos: 280





	Wrong End of a Gun

“Is this how you normally conduct your investigations?”

It was meant to be snarky, rhetorical. Jon had finally mustered the energy for a comeback, feeling more himself than he had in ages. He and Daisy were on the trail of the Stranger, almost ready to investigate Breekon & Hope and track down Sarah Baldwin. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized his mistake. There was a static in his ears and it poured into his voice, ripping the answer out of her throat like a hunter with prey.

“I’m more apt to chase ‘em down, use my gun and watch them bleed. They don’t ask questions at the station, not anymore.” Her eyes narrowed- she knew what Jon had done. Before he could move she had him by the throat, throwing him to the ground with a growl as his still-healing neck stung in pain. Jon let out a choked cry, flailing backwards until he hit the wall and attempted to make himself as small as possible. 

“I can show you, if you like,” the whisper was dangerous and low in his ear. He shook, throwing an arm over his face with a pathetic whimper. Basira wasn’t here to save him this time. Could anyone hear them? Martin? Tim? Melanie? Would anyone come if he called? _Please, please help-_

The sound of a gun being cocked made the terror freeze in his chest. She wouldn’t, she _couldn't,_ not while Elias still had Basira trapped in the Archives. But Jon could hear her steps and feel the anger radiating off her every move. She chuckled humorlessly and the sound was familiar. Everyone seemed to find him so funny these days. One day they’ll drag his corpse into the Archives and everyone will laugh and laugh. _Stupid Jon, couldn’t keep well enough alone!_

“I’d make it slow, you know,” she was back in his face, pulling his arm away and grabbing his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. They held a feral glow as she tenderly, _mockingly_ tucked a stray hair behind his ear and he trembled in place. “Shoot you in the arm, maybe the side first. Just a graze, enough to bleed but not enough to take you down.” Her eyes never left his as she ghosted a hand down his ribs and his shivering intensified. 

“I’d let you run for a bit, leaving your scent all over the woods,” she tutted at this, shaking her head in faux-disappointment. A hand across his neck comes away with blood and she’s happy, so happy to see it. Jon can feel his vision clouding. Was he crying or losing consciousness? Hopefully the latter. “You’re such an easy target. It’s sad to see. Elias should have let me finish the job, but here we are.” This seemed to be his only saving grace these days- _Elias needs him._ But for what purpose, what end? To be a scapegoat and a punching bag? There’s so much he doesn’t know and so much that Elias won’t tell him. _Tell me what to do and I’ll do it._

“Next, the leg!” Daisy kicked at his ankle and he made a piteous sound, trying in vain to curl further into himself. “Now you’re crawling on all fours. So _pathetic.”_ And suddenly Jon was no longer in his office. He heard the sounds of the forest, he felt the rough ground digging to his back as she flipped him over easily and put the gun to his head; his eyes were wide, drinking it all in.

The cold muzzle of the gun was at his forehead and even as he shook, even as he closed his eyes in fear he felt a strange peace. A comfort. _It’ll be over soon,_ it whispered. _Just close your eyes and count to three and-_

_“Bang!”_ Daisy’s voice went off like the sound of a bullet and he yelped, expecting pain but feeling none. She laughed, high and hysterical and mean as he fought to take in heaving breaths. “Look at your face! _God,_ it’s so easy to-”

“What the _hell,_ Daisy?” Jon cracked open one eye to see Martin at the door, Tim close behind him. Martin looked furious and Jon remembered a time when he stood in that doorway, flinging worms at Jon’s feet and demanding he listen. “What are you- _Jon!”_ At once Martin was at his feet, kneeling down and putting a hesitant hand on his shoulder as Jon flinched. The warmth of his hand burned through his shirt. People didn’t touch him with good intentions anymore. _Hands were supposed to hurt._

“Are you alright?” he asked urgently, but his voice was so soft. Jon could cry from the tenderness of it. “Did she do anything to you?”

“Did I do anything to him? That _little monster?”_ Daisy replied, disbelief evident in her tone. Jon cowered further, leaning into Martin’s touch. “I should think it’s the opposite- always asking his _questions_ and ripping out the answers-”

“Christ, stop waving that gun around!"Tim yelled, ducking out of the doorway. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

She barked out a laugh but holstered the gun. “Not if he doesn’t first.” She moved towards the door, grinning with too many teeth as Tim dodged out of her way. “Let me know if you’d like me to finish the job, Stoker,” she jeered, jerking her head in Jon’s direction. If Tim replied he didn’t hear it. At this point, Jon wasn’t sure if it would be yes or no.

“It’s fine, she’s gone now,” Martin said soothingly, wrapping his arms around Jon now that the imminent danger had passed. Tim lingered in the doorway, fixing Jon with a hard glare he couldn’t look away from. “We won’t let anything happen to you.” He desperately wanted to believe that, but in less than a day he would be back out with Daisy and there would be nothing anyone could do to stop her, not if she wanted him dead. Sure he had power, but what could he do with it? Alienate his allies, irritate his foes, and not much else. It was worthless.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, grabbing at Martin’s sweater and looking into those kind, worried eyes. “I didn’t mean to ask a question. You believe me, right?” Static. Martin opened his mouth and answered right away.

“Of course.” He clammed up immediately afterwards, his face hardening. And Jon- Jon had done it again. He looked at Martin in horror, an apology on his lips before Tim began to speak.

“What the fuck, Jon,” Tim was angry, Tim was always so angry but he deserved it, didn’t he? “Now you’re doing it to _us?_ C’mon Martin, leave him be. Just another fucking monster to deal with-”

“No, Tim,” Martin replied firmly, anger settling into every line of his face. Jon ducked down, he couldn’t bear to look at him and see the disappointment he was sure was directed at him. “Get out.”

_“What-?”_

“Get out. You’re scaring him.” Martin sounded stern and commanding. Was Jon scared of Tim? He was clinging to Martin’s sweater pretty tightly, shaking in his arms. _But that’s not right, Tim should be scared of me._

Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes in the doorway. “Fine. Have it your way. You’ll regret it.”

Jon reluctantly pulled away, though he couldn’t bring himself to meet Martin’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” Martin replied warily, helping him to his feet with a hand around his waist as he maneuvered him gently onto the couch. “Well, it’s not fine, but I know you can’t help it.” Martin’s right. He can’t help it. All of this power and he’s still utterly helpless. Martin’s face suddenly grew panicked and a hand hovered at Jon’s neck.

“Your wound reopened again,” Martin cursed and Jon was made aware of the blood dripping lazily down his neck. “Let me grab-” 

“N-No,” Jon yelped, almost unconsciously grabbing back at his sweater. The thought of Martin walking out filled him with sudden anxiety. _He’s the only one who can stand you right now. Keep him happy, keep him calm._ “It’ll stop eventually.” He tried for a reassuring tone, but clearly missed the mark as Martin let out a heaving, irritated sigh. Jon dropped his hand immediately in response. 

“No, it’s not-” Martin struggled to find the words, his brow furrowed in annoyance and frustration. “You keep putting yourself in danger. Letting _Elias_ put you in danger. Look at you!” He gestured angrily at Jon’s throat. “Your throat is _literally_ torn open and I can’t- I can’t _do anything!”_ He dropped down to the couch looking drained and haggard. Because of Jon. He wanted to comfort him, tell him not to worry and that it would be alright in the end. But he couldn’t, so he settled for honesty.

“It’s fine if it’s me,” he tried to soothe Martin like the man had done with him before, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It _has_ to be me. I can take it.” A wobble was creeping into his voice even as he tried to tamp it down. “You heard them. I’m- I’m a _monster-_ ” Martin cut him off, grabbing the hand on his shoulder between his own and squeezing, his eyes bright and furious.

“No you’re not. Not to me.” The conviction in Martin’s words was almost convincing. “Promise me, Jon. Promise me you’ll try to stay safe. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me. _Please.”_ Jon couldn’t deny him a thing in that moment. So he promised.

Not a week later when Breekon and Hope have him by the arms and shove him into that van, he remembers his promise. He wants to tell Martin he _tried_ and not to worry, he’ll be back soon. But he needs a little help.

If no one else, Martin will help. 

**Author's Note:**

> For back on day three of Whumptober- held at gunpoint. Wanted to do a bit with Daisy and Jon but had to figure out where I wanted to situate it. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! I'm @voiceless-terror on tumblr.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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